


I Can Kill You With My Mind

by Snowjob



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Dirty Talk, M/M, Magic Stiles, Masturbation, Psychic Bond, the closest to canon I ever dared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1664021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowjob/pseuds/Snowjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to an open prompt on tumblr:  </p><p>I need a fic—no, this fandom needs a fic—wait, THE WORLD NEEDS A FIC where magic!Stiles accidentally forms a telepathic bond with Derek while having sex with someone else.</p><p>He may or may not be having an orgasm at the time.</p><p>He also may or may not be picturing Derek while doing it.<br/>- Jerakeenc</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Kill You With My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jerakeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerakeen/gifts).



It’s not that the guy’s bad looking - far from it, actually.  He’s the typical Abercrombie pretty boy, cut cheekbones, lean muscle, clean shaven… actually, now that Stiles thinks about it, he looks a little like Jackson.

 _Maybe that’s it, too much Jackson_ , he thinks as he sucks the guy’s tongue into his mouth, trails fingers down his arms, grazing the fine, blond hairs. They guy - Vic? Vaughn? Something with a ‘V’ - responds with a thrust, hand splayed across Stiles’ ass, tugging him in.  Stiles goes with the motion, trying to will himself into arousal.  This is what he wanted, what the whole purpose of tonight had been. And Vincent was into it, dancing up on him, whispering filthy promises into his ear, dragging him into the men’s room.  But Stiles couldn’t deny the most turned on he’d been was when he couldn’t see Victor, when he was just a body grinding behind him, when he slammed Stiles against the stall door so hard he’d shut his eyes on instinct, and then kept them closed as Vikram mouthed at his neck.  But even that felt like it was missing something, so it wasn’t long before Stiles surged up to flip them, pressing Vance into the cool metal as he pulled his shirt over his head.  Skin on skin always helped.

“How do you want me?” Vernon (ERK!  ABORT, ABORT), Virgil (just marginally better) whispers, teeth catching on Stiles’ earlobe as he fumbles with his belt.  Stiles is still only half-hard, but doesn’t really want to turn his back to someone he’s just met.

“Hands on the wall,” he answers, pulling back and helping to push the other man around, tugging his pants down.  Something in his chest loosens, no longer able to see sharp yet boyish facial features, focusing on the pale expanse of skin before him, broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist.  Not quite as broad as he would like, but he has a healthy imagination, he can manage.   _Maybe too healthy an imagination_ , he thinks as his eyes veritably paint a tattoo between the guy’s shoulder blades.  

“Oh  _fuck_ ,” he whispers, and feels a little pang of sympathy as the guy groans in response, completely unaware of the projection Stiles is experiencing.  He’s afraid it’s his magic seeping through, unsure whether it’s altering Stiles’ perception or actually altering the man bent over before him.

 _I should stop_ , he thinks, about to take his hands off Valiant’s waist when he hears, “Please just  _fuck_  me,” in a voice so desperate, so warmly familiar, that his cock can’t help but respond to it, rising up to full mast at the breathy, needy moan that seems to surround him. 

“I’ve got you,” he mumbles, smoothing his hands down the other man’s sides, prepping him quickly before rolling on a condom and lining himself up.  The ‘finally’ he hears from just in front of him sounds nothing like the plea from before, and is almost enough to knock Stiles out of the fantasy, but he plows ahead, eyes closed, imagining the warm, pliant body he wants in front of him.  The sun-kissed skin and taut muscles, the triskele swirl and the coal black hair, the breathy moans he’d emit as Stiles pushed in over and over again.  

 _You’re all I want_ , Stiles thinks desperately as he continues the rhythm, going a little erratic as he ignores the sounds coming out of the man and replaces them with the moans he hears in his head.  _I’m close. Want you so bad, you have no idea. Derek!_

 ** _STILES!_** The sound of his name wrapped up in that much heat and need is enough to pull him over the edge, shuddering through his imagination-fueled orgasm as the guy continues to clench around him.  

“Mmmmm, Kyle!” Vinnie calls out, wrenching out his own climax as Stiles stares ahead a little dumbfounded, fantasy totally wiped away.

“Did you just-” he gasps out, still catching his breath as Val turns to toss him a sheepish look.

“Oh, shit, sorry dude, I mean, you’re hot, but I - this was just -”

“It’s fine, it is. I get it.  Uh, me too, actually,” Stiles says as he ties up the condom and tucks himself away.  The guy grins a little, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“Well, glad we could at least help each other out.  What’s your name again?”

“Uh, Stiles…”

“Right, right, Travis, in case you forgot,” the guy winks before pulling his shirt back on and unlocking the stall door, leaving Stiles alone and a little lost for words.

 ** _What in the hell was THAT?_  ** Stiles flings himself around the small space, head whipping frantically to find the source of the voice.  He knows who it belongs to, but there’s no way,  _no way_  he should be hearing it now.

“Derek?” His heart is beating frantically in his chest, ears pricked for an answer.  Nothing.  He closes his eyes and bites his lip.

_Derek?_

**_Stiles what the HELL?_  ** His eyes bug open at the sharp voice in his head, pushing at the stall door with his flailing arms as he runs back out into the club to get Scott.  He finds him at the bar, sipping on a fruity drink that he most likely did not buy for himself. Stiles doesn't think he's paid for a drink all night. 

“Hey man!”  Scott gives him a warm smile, “Did you get-”

“We have to go, we have to go now!”  The smile drops and Scott begins looking around, eyes flashing red just for a second as he subtly sniffs at the air.

“What’s wrong, what’s happened?  Stiles I need you to calm down and talk to me.”

_This can’t be happening._

**_Shit shit shit shit._ **

“Shit! Scott, just, I need to get to Derek.  Or Deaton.  Deaton.  Derek and Deaton.”

“Okay man, okay, let me just grab Kira, you call Derek-”

“No no no no,  _you_  call Derek.  I’ll find Kira.”  Before Scott can say anything else Stiles is off, maneuvering through gyrating bodies and keeping his mind as blank as possible before finding Kira chatting animatedly with a punk couple at the far-end bar, who look all too happy to have her attention.

_Bet they’re looking for a threesome._

**_What? Who is?_ **

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Stiles wiggles his way closer, “Kira!  We gotta go, emergency.”  Luckily he doesn’t have to elaborate any further as she nods, bidding a hasty farewell to the visibly disappointed couple before joining Stiles’ side.

“What’s happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all fine, it’s just, uhhh, I’m hearing things.”  Kira’s eyes go impossibly wide, and Stiles is certain she’s recalling his brief yet debilitating stint as a Nogitsune.  It’s been years since then, but it’s never far from anyone’s mind. But he’s also 87.3% sure this particular conundrum has nothing to do with it.  “Derek things,” he adds on to assuage her worries.

“Ohhh, like, good things?” Stiles gives her an exasperated look, unsure as to how she could always be so upbeat about everything.

“There you guys are.  I talked to Derek, who seems as freaked out as you.  He’s meeting us at Deaton’s.”  Scott says, handing Kira her coat as he ushers them both out the front doors.  Once they're out of earshot of anyone else, he continues on, “Derek wouldn’t tell me what was happening, just kept asking if you were going to be there.  What’s going on?”

Stiles’ stomach flips as he instinctively goes for the driver’s side door of his jeep, only to be pulled away and guided to Scott’s car by a sure and steady hand.

“Sorry man, we’ll come back for it later, but you’re not driving like this.”

“Good call,” Stiles says as he slides into the Ford Focus, trying to both keep his mind blank and ignore the steady buzzing he can feel just underneath his skin.  He’s not sure how much he and Derek are broadcasting to each other, but he suspects that it really doesn’t matter, because ANY kind of telepathic bond is too much.  And if Derek knew what Stiles had been doing - had been vividly  _thinking_  - when it first manifested, then the damage has already been done.  

He flips on the radio to give his brain something to focus on, something that’s not sensitive or Derek-fueled.  Thankfully Scott and Kira don’t pry any further, Kira actually singing along to some of the songs, as they make their way to the veterinarian’s office.

As they pull into the parking lot they can see the silhouette of Derek getting out of his car and stalking over to the front door, hands covering his ears.

 _Don’t think it works that way._  Stiles can't help himself, smirking as he watches Derek drop his hands and turn, narrowing his eyes at the car as the trio clamor out of it.

**_At least you’re not playing “Call Me Maybe” anymore._ **

_Oh please, I know you love that song.  I’ve seen you dancing to it._

**_Oh shit, you saw that?_ **

_No._  Stiles lets out a raucous laugh at Derek’s pained face, leaving Scott and Kira to look at each other in confusion.

“I think we just missed something very important.”

“I think I know what the ‘problem’ is,” Kira says, looking back and forth between the two men.  Scott’s jaw drops as he shoots looks at all three of them, eyebrows furrowed at being the only one out of the loop.

“C’mon, Deaton’s waiting,” he huffs as he walks ahead of everyone into the clinic.

———-

“A telepathic bond?” Scott’s eyebrows look like they’re about to climb off his face as he repeats the vet’s diagnosis.  Deaton nods, casting unsettlingly knowing glances between Stiles and Derek, sitting on opposite sides of the room. “How?  Why Derek?  Why now?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that without all of the facts.  But something must have triggered the bond; often it’s a phrase or a shared object, sometimes an intense feeling,” Stiles’ cheeks grow warm at that, as yes, those were some pretty intense feelings he was having back in that bathroom stall.  Derek looks up suddenly at him, making him blush even deeper and sink into his chair, trying to think of the most annoying songs he knows.

“So how do we reverse it?”

“Either a repeat of the trigger, or possibly enacting the opposite of the trigger, will reverse the effects.  Do either of you have any ideas as to how this all started?”  Stiles quickly hides his face, willing his heartbeat to slow down, singing Smash Mouth as loud as he can in his head, which is now warring with Derek’s own  _Call Me Maybe_.  The standoff lasts a full two minutes before Deaton lets out a sigh.

“I see… Scott, Kira, may I see you for a moment?”  Deaton stands up and walks to the door, holding it open for the pair and then shutting it firmly behind them, leaving Stiles and Derek alone in the operating room.

After another outwardly silent minute Derek lets out a breath and looks at Stiles.

“You’re getting the lyrics wrong.”

“I’m  _what_? THAT’S what you’re going to focus on?”

“Better than letting you in my head!”

“Afraid I’ll find out all your wolfy secrets?  Discover what you really think of Scott? Of me?” Derek’s cheeks color and the Carly Rae Jepson intensifies.

_Oh god, that’s it.  That’s actually it._

**_RIPPED JEANS, SKIN WAS SHOWING.  HOT NIGHT, WIND WAS BLOWING_.**

“OKAY STOP!” Stiles shouts, flinging himself out of the chair to pace around the room.  “Let’s think- talk about this.  And if we’re talking, we’re not thinking!”

**_That explains so much about you._ **

“Oh fuck off,” but they’re both smiling a little now, and the songs have stopped, though Stiles still hears a bit of the harmony in the background.  But it’s not bad.

“So… okay, cards on the table, if we’re going to reverse this we need to own up.  Say what we were doing when this happened, cause I’m pretty sure we haven’t shared any mystic jewelry or stones with each other lately.”

“Not lately, no.”

“Okay, so, what were you doing?”  Derek levels him with a glare, the song picking up again.  “Oh come on.  Fine, want me to say it first?  I was having sex.” The song stops so abruptly Stiles is half-waiting for the sound of a scratched record to follow it.

“Oh.”

“Well shit, don’t sound so surprised.”

“No it’s just,”  ** _fuck fuck fuck_ _,_  **“I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

“I’m not.  Just a hook-up at a club…” Stiles waits, but both their minds are suspiciously silent.

“I was masturbating.” The words brighten Stiles up immediately, pulling a confused glare from Derek.

“Well that must be it! We had mutual, mystical orgasms!  We probably just happened to come at the same time and poof, mind-link!”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s magic, it’s not supposed to make sense.  But now we know how to reverse it.  We just have to orgasm at the same time, get everything back to normal.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s our best hope right now.” Stiles is all but ready to pull out his dick and go to town, hand actually reaching for his belt.

“COULD YOU WAIT UNTIL I’M OUT OF THE ROOM?” Derek bellows, putting his hands over his ears again, despite having proven that it's a pointless effort.

“Well how else should we do this?  Synchronize our watches?”

“Yes, yes, let’s do that.” Derek looks like he's practically itching to run out of the room, which, not gonna lie, hurts Stiles.  Just a little.  

 ** _You don’t want me here for that._  **Derek promises, and Stiles realizes he needs to get a hold on his wandering thoughts, before Derek finds out way more than he bargained for.

“Just, I don’t know, sing that stupid song until you get home.  I’ll hear when you start, and we’ll just go from there.”

“Okay, okay, but, um, don’t, you might want to start before me… I can’t promise a long show.” He shuts his eyes and thinks of ‘All Star’ as loud as he can to drown out the following thoughts, knowing that Derek’s going to be masturbating at the same time, that he’ll be fucking into a fist simultaneously with Stiles… shit he’s getting hard right now.

**_Oh god damn._ **

“Sorry!” Stiles shouts before running out of the room to find Scott and Kira, full on singing to keep himself from saying or thinking anything else incriminating.

———- 

The car ride home is long, with Scott asking questions between choruses, and Kira, saint that she is, singing along.

“Don’t know what the range is.  I assume infinite.  In D&D when someone casts telepathic bond it works wherever you are, no matter how far away, unless you’re on another dimensional plane.”

“Wait you play?  How did I never know this?”

“No no no, we are not getting sucked into another campaign,” Scott warns as he takes the last turn a little sharper than strictly necessary.  “And he can’t hear what you say, only what you think?”

“Yeah, seems like it, and no visuals either, just like, ‘voice in the head’ kind of thing.”

“Okay, so, let him know when you’re starting, then just talk your way through it.  Anything you want to think, just say it instead.”  Stiles can’t help but grin.

“That is the exact opposite advice anyone has ever given me,” he says as he undoes his seatbelt.  “And I can’t believe you’re giving me masturbation tips.”

“Weirder things.  Go get ‘im.”

“Have good self-sex!” Kira calls out as Stiles climbs out of the car and makes for the front door.  He turns and winks to her before letting himself in.

———- 

“Okay, so, no thinking, only talking. If I talk Derek won’t know how much I want to fuck him, and we’ll be able to stay in our weird level of tolerant friendship.  But to not think of him I need to think of something else.  Something else to masturbate to.  Porn.  Porn porn porn.  Probably het porn, cause you know what you always end up thinking about when you’re watching two guys get it on, and-”

“Stiles what in GOD’S name are you doing?”  The scream Stiles emits pierces the heavens which rains thousands of tiny swords upon him.  Or he wishes it did.  He turns and takes a deep breath.

“Dad you’re not going to believe this but Derek and I are psychically linked but he can’t hear what I say so I have to say EVERYTHING or else he’ll hear it and the only way to break the link is for us to get off at the same time.”  The sheriff gives him a hard, steady glare before walking over to the cabinet, grabbing his half-empty bottle of Jack and walking out the door.  The last thing Stiles hears is the tires peeling out of the driveway, followed by a series of  ** _yes_** ’s in Derek’s voice and oh fuck, he’s late.

 _DEREK!  Derek SAY IT, don’t think it!_ He runs into his room, slamming the door and diving across the bed for his lube.

 ** _Want you so bad_ _._**   Stiles’ stomach drops at this, knowing Derek is actively interested in someone, jerking off to the thought of them.  

_Derek PLEASE don’t make me go through this…_

_**… sorry, I won’t- I’ll keep my mind blank.**  _ Stiles sighs in relief.

_Thanks, okay, getting started now.  Remember, talk it out, get loud._

**_Fuck, I bet you’re loud._ **

_Tonight I am,_  he grins, shimmying out of his pants and taking his cock in his hand.  “Yeah, but fuck I wish I could see you now, I bet you look amazing,” he slides his slick hand up and down his shaft, easing himself into it, “wanna run my hands all over you, get you ready.  Are you fingering yourself right now?”  Stiles swipes his own finger across his hole, making his body jump a little at the light sensation. “I bet you are.  I bet you’re a fucking power bottom, wanting it so bad, so ready to take it.  To take me.”  He’s thrusting up harder now, a sheen of sweat covering his skin.  “I’d make it so good, so good, Derek, if you’d only realize.” He’s getting breathy, the words coming out reedy as he slips a dry finger inside himself, relishing the sharp burn it gives him, bringing him back from the edge.  “Never wanted anyone like I want you.  Not even porn does it for me anymore.  I always just end up thinking about you.  Sometimes not even sex, just the way you look at me, the way you sound, god Derek, do you even know what you do to me?”  He’s full on panting now, and he can’t keep it in anymore.

_Derek, I’m close!_

**_Me too, Stiles.  Come with me_.**

Oh - “Fuck!” Stiles finishes out loud as he comes all over his chest, panting for breath in short bursts as he wrings the last of his orgasm out of him.

_Did you come?  Did it work?_

**_I came… it didn’t work._ **

“Fuck…”  _Maybe it takes a little while?_

**_Maybe… I guess we’ll see in the morning._ **

_Just want to let you know I’m fully ready to masturbate again in the morning if need be._

_**Just go to sleep.** _

_Yeah yeah, but hey, this is way easier than texting, huh?_

**_Goodnight._ **

_Night, Derek._

———-

Stiles wakes up to counting in his head, and immediately shoves a pillow over his face.

_Stop working out!  We need to fix this!_

**_Working out clears my head._ **

_And tightens your ass.  You can skip a day and let me sleep in._

**_I thought you said we need to fix this?_ **

_Sleeping clears my head._

**_Get up, I’m coming over._ **

_Oh shit!_  - “Oh shit!” Stiles throws the covers off, cringing at how disgusting he feels.  He never cleaned up after his one-man-show last night, and his room still reeks like sex.  Not that Derek doesn’t know what happened last night-

**_Put on some music or something.  Just open a window, I’ll be fine._ **

“Fuck fuck fuck.” The chant follows him throughout the house, from the laundry room to the shower and back to his room to change.  He’s so engrossed in its repetition that he doesn’t hear the window sliding open.  Thusly, the sight of a leather-clad werewolf in his room while he’s still running about with a towel around his waist comes as a bit of a shock.  

“FUCKING fuck fuck fuck DON’T DO THAT!” Stiles shouts, throwing the balled up socks he had in his hands at Derek, who of course catches them easily and lobs them back, knocking him in the forehead.

_Fucking werewolves._

“So last night didn’t work-”

“You think?”

“- and Deaton said it could be something else.  Doing the opposite of what we were doing.”

“Well… I mean I wasn’t actually masturbating when it happened the first time.  There was someone else involved, so maybe-” Derek’s face gets pinched at that, and Coldplay lyrics get blasted through his mind.

“Dude, are you mad cause I was getting some and you were stroking it alone?”

“No.” Derek bites out, but Stiles doesn’t believe him for a minute.  

“Are you serious?  Come on man, talk about petty jealousy.  That was probably, like, the one time-”

“It’s not what you think.”

“So tell me!  Now’s the fuckin’ time.  No secrets here.”

 ** _I wanted it to be me._**   Stiles is shocked into silence.  Complete silence: no words, no thoughts.  It takes a good thirty seconds for his brain to reboot, which was apparently more than enough time for Derek to get a foot out the window.

“Where do you think you’re going?” spews from his mouth as  _no no no come back, oh shit come back_  scrolls through his brain.  Derek heaves a massive sigh and stops his fleeing, but still doesn’t look at Stiles.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear that-”

 _WHAT?_  “Why wouldn’t I want to hear that?  Shit Derek, I- all day,  _all day_ I would want to hear that.” Now Derek looks less conflicted and more confused, rigid hold of his muscles loosening as he eases his upper body back into the room.

“But you said, last night, you said to not put you through it.”

 _Oh my GOD_ _,_  “I thought you were talking about someone else!  I couldn’t, there was no way I was going to be able to get off while thinking about you and knowing you’re thinking about someone else.”

 ** _Wait wait wait_** _-_  “Stiles, that night, when you were having sex-”

“I was thinking about you.  It’s kind of a really bad habit I have.  Luckily I don’t have sex with other people too often, so I don’t have to feel so ba-” the feel of soft lips on his sufficiently shuts up the words coming from his mouth, but his brain explodes in a frenzy of exclamation.  They mostly get lost in the sea of feelings that comes rushing from Derek, so Stiles can only glean tidbits: mentions of his mouth, his smell, how long he’s wanted this.  It’s all frustratingly close to Stiles’ own tirade.  

“Fuuuuucking hell,” Stiles finally verbalizes, pulling back enough get a breath and more fully appreciate the swollen state of Derek’s lips, “we could’ve been doing that forever ago!”  

“Guess we’ve got some making up to do,” Derek uses the short hiatus to pull his shirt over his head, which Stiles approves of in every way he knows how.  He actually goes for his own belt buckle before remembering he’s only wearing a towel.  Well, he _was_  wearing a towel.

 _Oh shit, I’m naked.  Is this a dream?_ Derek stalks forward, clad in only his underwear, which Stiles still finds to be a little unfair, given his predicament.

“Better not be,” He growls against his mouth, taking Stiles’ hands and lacing their fingers together seamlessly, “and I like your predicament just fine.” Stiles grins and rubs his face into Derek’s neck, biting a little as he feels strong hands roam down his body, cupping his ass, and moving back up until he takes his hands again, leading them around his body to his own still-covered derriere.  Stiles takes in a shaky breath, fingers dipping below the waistline.

“Really?”

 ** _Want you so bad, Stiles, please just fuck me_ _._  **The words pull a shudder out of Stiles as he rocks up against him.  It takes him a moment longer to remember why they’re so familiar.

“That first night, when this- were you thinking about me?”

“Fuck, Stiles, stop talking,” but underneath, or really above Derek’s words comes,  ** _Always, every time, you’re perfect, I could never get enough of you._**

“Oh GOD, Derek!” And after that there’s no more talking, just frantic groans and half-garbled thoughts, proclamations and adorations and everything they’d ever thought on their own, open for the other to grab and hold onto for lack of anything coherent to say.

It’s not until after, when Stiles has his head resting against Derek’s chest, that he can’t hold it back any longer.

 _Fuck, I think I’m in love with you_ _._  His eyes shoot wide open as he looks up at Derek, his own heart beating at the unintentional confession.  But the werewolf just continues to lazily run his fingers through Stiles’ hair, eyes lidded and heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction.  No sign of reaction anywhere in his pliant body.

 _S’okay_ _,_  Stiles settles back down, ear over the other man’s heart.  _I’ll tell him later_ _._   He’s sure he just imagines the quickened heart rate as he drifts into sleep.


End file.
